


Lost & Found: Undead Boogaloo

by emberwing



Category: The First Drafthouse (Toonkind D&D)
Genre: Body Horror, Gen, a whole adult menacing a child, sneeth (snail teeth), toon-typical violence, undead animal cruelty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:35:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26485015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emberwing/pseuds/emberwing
Summary: In the two-part sequel to Whose Outline Is It Anyway, Dora got quite the bad start on the Mr. Zippy bridge thanks to the Lady Luck favoring the players QUITE WELL on rolling for the set up. Whatever Dora had actually been planning to DO that fateful winter-locked day, it derailed before it even got started.But suppose she had the perfect set up from the start? With the power of my pen, a shifted premise, and new rolls, can this unhinged actress put on a better show?
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	Lost & Found: Undead Boogaloo

There is a frozen moment when the Engineer falls, long and horrible, that only begins to break when he shouts, twisted midair to face upwards at his film crew in a reverse cat-falling maneuver and shouts “ _KEEP! ROLLING!_ ” The next instant sees him punch through the river’s icy surface with an ear-splitting _crack_ that sweeps him underneath in the blink of an eye.

Things begin to move every fast, but in fits and starts. Dodo Studio employees, familiar with the occasional set gone wrong but not _happy_ about it, stir to action first. The audience, spectating from the shores of the Mr. Zippy river and crowding the ends of the bridge, stir quietly in curiosity and appreciation of the stunt. They are quiet because if there’s one thing a Toon holds instinctual in their ink and outline, it is to not disturb the set. However, the other reason their reaction is so muted is because there are not nearly as many of them as anybody thought. There _is_ a significant crowd watching the filming but they’re not _all there_ , as it were.

It’s right about here, at the most dramatic moment possible, that attending Toons become suddenly and acutely aware that they are outnumbered. Surrounded, even. Most can turn a circle and not see another in sight, because instead of fellow movie appreciators and curious folk with nothing better to do, they are in fact in the middle of a mob of undead.

Were the numbers different, most would assume this was apart of the movie. The Engineer is infamous in the industry for, shall we say, ‘set surprises’- why _not_ include spectators? In another scenario, the audience would take to eradicating the undead among their midst with cartoonishly gleeful prejudice.

As it is, they panic, because in the next moment the horde receives a silent signal to _attack_.

Charlie Black is the next to stir to action because he is no strangerto best laid plans gone awry. They never survive first contact with the enemy, though “the enemy” for him is usually guards, failed stealth checks, and alarm systems, not broken bridge railings and people in rivers and _zombies_? Those look like zombies.

Consequentially, Charlie is good at making snap decisions. His eyes case the scene- two hordes, one for each side of the bridge, moving in the pinch the crew. Shorts Kid is with someone and moving, good, but Snailien could get in trouble, and what the _hell_ is Larry doing?

“ _Legs!_ ” he bellows at the still form of Larry- the _only_ still form. At this point the bridge is a mass of confused film crew only just beginning to be corralled into something like order by Snailien. He points a hand at said snail, whose camera position is set up _way_ too far away from the bridge center for Charlie’s liking. “Grab X-Files! I’m going after the Engineer!”

Not waiting to see if Larry reacts, Charlie pivots the heel of his borrowed camera-broom and guns it down the river, tracing a presumed trajectory from the Engineer-made hole in the ice.

***

Larry _does_ act. He snaps into motion so suddenly it looks almost painful. More than one owl is bowled aside as he surges against the tide towards Snailien. She’s easy to find in the chaos despite her size due to the rapid-fire flicker of Toon Sign Language she is casting out. Her instructions to Dodo Studios are stopping the set from becoming a total zoo, but it’s still a frantic scramble as Toons press away from the approaching horde.

He scoops her up, deposits her on his hood. Only really remembers to grab the camera because Snailien yells in his ear to do it. They’re on the fringes now, with nothing between them and the undead but a closing gap of empty bridge. Larry doesn’t want to have the camera. He wants to have both hands free for weapons. He shoves it unceremoniously behind him into the hands of an owl- they’ll get better footage than he can manage. The Engineer doesn’t strike him as the sort to appreciate shaky cam shots in his films.

_The Engineer._

Larry’s attention cuts to the river, picks out the shrinking shape of Charlie flying low to the ice. There is more shouting as something happens overhead, what is- oh. A dragon- Gregory- streaking after Charlie on Snailien’s command. Good, that’s good. He can focus on the undead crisis, then, because they haven’t stopped just because he’s distracted. _Focus_.

He’s game to take his frustration out on a frankly obscene number of dead people. Why even are there dead people? Suspicious, honestly, out of nowhere and right when the railing gave out-

“ _Larry!_ ” Snailien is yelling. He realizes she’s been smacking a gooey nubbin against his mask for his attention for who knows how long. He couldn’t feel it. “Larry, where’s Shorts Kid?”

***

Shorts Kid has not acted because Shorts Kid’s mind is under a haze of poppy red. They are distantly aware of many things, some more than others- a crushing mill of bodies, a claw-like grip on their shoulders easing them back from the gap in the railing, those hands keeping them from being jostled but also taking them away from the edge, away from Larry, away from the water and the drop and _Dad_ -

“Come on now,” says Elf Lady. They never caught her name; didn’t really care. Snailien knows, Snailien is polite for both of them. “Let’s get somewhere safe, hmm? This way.”

They’re carefully turned around, set marching against the tide (no, no no _that’s not where Train Dad is- he fell, he’s falling again and they’ve gotta SAVE HIM THIS TIME-_ )

Most of the film crew flows around them in their haste to get away from the approaching zombies, but one skids to a halt, grabs Elf Lady by the arm.

“It’s not safe that way!” Eric shouts over the din. “They’re coming from the east, too!”

A snarl rips out of Elf Lady’s throat. “ _How_ dare _you touch me_.” It’s guttural and throaty, _dripping_ with acid and Shorts Kid _knows_ that disgust, has heard it before. It’s dogged their mind and thoughts and dreams for _months_. They hadn’t thought anything of a vaguely sour, sharp waft coming from this lady at close range like this but suddenly it’s _all they can smell_.

Dora Z. Scale tears her arm out of Eric’s grip and _pushes_ him, red between her fingers and an ugly snarl on her lips. The owl stumbles back, partly in pain at the necrotic touch but mostly in sheer surprise, quickly replaced with horror as he opens his beak to yell out a warning. He never makes it- Dora’s shoved him _directly_ into the wall of undead which is _right there_ , how did they get _right there_ -

Eric disappears into the mob, dragged back by grabbing, rotting, grey hands with a yell that blends into the general hysteria. It doesn’t go unseen though- the noise behind them reaches a new fever pitch because oh, people _noticed_ , they noticed this Elf Lady who is Not An Elf Lady At All throw one of their own to the horde and she’s _still dragging them away_ , moving faster, hands crushing their shoulders and caged in on all sides by rotting stink-

The poppy spell _breaks._

Shorts Kid shrieks “ _STRANGER DANGER”_ at the top of their considerable lungs and casts a meteor right into Dora’s face.

_***_

“Where is Shorts Kid?” Snailien yells. Larry does a quick 360 pivot. Zombies on the right, film crew on the left, Charlie and Gregory over the river. No Engineer in sight. No Shorts Kid either. They must be on the other side of the bridge. They’d _better_ be.

“…I’m gonna toss you,” Larry tells Snailien. Cups her careful in his big hands and bends low, back straight before launching Snailien skyward, right up over his head. Rocks back when he catches her, tucks her close for a gentler landing before bringing her back up eye-to-eyehole. “You see ‘em?”

“They’re on the other side,” Snailien confirms.

Yeah, Larry doesn’t like that.

“They’re with Judy but- somethings wrong. Larry, I think something _really wrong_ , we gotta go!”

He _really_ doesn’t like that.

He starts shouldering his way through the knot of film crew plugging the bridge center. They’ve rallied together by this point, clustered as one brandishing whatever weapons they have. Those with long-range options are using them at the forefront while others stand ready with health potions in hand- always useful for Engineer-directed movies, but not really bought with this scenario in mind. The Brecht Brigade swoop and dive overhead, bombarding the horde from above. All the while, cameras roll. Seems in hand on this side, honestly.

Elf Lady’s not hard to find now that he’s looking for her- she’s one of the few people on set close to his height and the only Realkind actor brought on besides (Larry’s wondered idly how deliberate a casting choice that was on the Engineer’s part).

The echoes of a shockwave roll over the bridge- Charlie firing off a _Thunderwave_ , at a guess. Larry really hopes that means good things. Hopes Charlie can succeed where he couldn’t.

Snailien’s right- Elf Lady is walking _away_ from the knot of living, right towards the undead. As he speeds up his approach, he sees her shove a crewmember off her, _into_ the horde, red and green sparks between her snarling teeth and-

Hmm.

Well. That explains a lot.

Larry began this whole fiasco off balance, reeling and unable to get his feet truly under him since the Engineer fell and he _froze_ like he was green to the world all over again. Now, he feels the situation snap into crystal focus. He can do something about this problem.

Banjo, meet nail.

Larry breaks into a full-on sprint, focus locked onto the spot where Dora disappeared into the milling throng of undead with Shorts Kid. He plows through the film crew, knocking birds aside like they are so many bowling pins and breaking out onto the other side into the growing no man’s land between living and dead.

Dora’s only just visible between the bodies escorting her retreat, marked by her dark hair and alive coloring. Further marked by shouting from her direction that is very distinctly Shorty. Shouting which suddenly disappears, only to be replaced moments later by _screaming_ further into the knot of undead crowding the Toontown avenue.

“Throw me!” Snailien calls, smacking his mask. This time he clocks her request instantly, plucks her down off his hood and leans back for a fastball special even as he’s running straight for the wall of undead. Oh, wow, she is _vibrating_ in his grip. Larry would almost be concerned it’d knock his aim off if he wasn’t so goddamn _raging._

Speaking of aim, he’s lost sight of Dora herself, but figures the building green glow down the street is the way to go. He lobs Snailien right at it, flight path taking her on a diagonal cut across river ice to the street.

He doesn’t get to see the result of that; only just has the time to unsling his radiantly glowing banjo before driving directly into the horde. 

***

The meteor clocks Dora right under the jaw, knocks her head up with a gargled squawk because she _totally_ just bit her tongue. It doesn’t knock her grip though- if anything, she holds tighter and Shorts Kid yelps from the sting of necrotic damage right to their hit points. It’s a bad enough hit they almost _miss_ the unmistakable feeling of space beginning to bend and warp around the two of them.

Now, Shorts Kid knows a teleport spell when they see one. Their own brand of space magic has been acting weird and breaking down since arriving in Einquell, which is the WORST. While they weren’t able to save their Train Dad from the Taffy Train explosion (hasn’t been able to save him this time either, _where is he_ -), Shorts Kid can pecking well interrupt a teleport. This is like, their _thing_.

There is an audible record scratch as the two of them blink in and out ofshot, stretching and distorting in a series of pause-unpause smear frames. The spell only takes a few seconds of this before giving up entirely, dumping them right back as they were twenty feet down the riverside street instead of wherever Dora was intending. One silver slipper all but explodes apart on Dora’s foot with a _BANG._

Shorts Kid snaps back into proportion none the worse for wear like a rubber band released from tension. Dora- oh wow, Dora does _not_ do that. Dora is _screaming_. Dora Z. Scale looks like someone has pulled her like taffy, put her to the rack and _cranked._ Her joints bulge strangely, weighed down by dislocated limbs, blood welling sluggishly out of tears in the skin and one foot straight up mangled.

Dora manages to half raise one arm, sounding off a series of pops and grinding in her joints, before collapsing to the ground. She doesn’t move after that.

Shorts Kid, eyes very wide, toes her with one winter boot. “She’s dead, Jim,” they announce to the zombies at large, some of whom are starting to turn their attention their way. Better get out of here. Better go get train dad ( _he’s fine, he’s very definitely gotta be_ fine.) Better not think about this anymore. “Dead as a Dora-nail.”

This is of course when two green-tinged undead hands dig painted red nails into their ankles.

***

Larry hits the first thing that gets in his way, which is disappointingly not Dora. The force with which he hits the zombie embeds his banjo spikes deep into its rotting flesh, drags it off it’s feet before centrifugal force rips it off and sends them flying, limbs akimbo- launched right off the bridge with a stringy _TWANG_ and Wilhelm scream.

“OVER HERE!” Shorts Kid yells through the mob, and yup, Larry is on that. “IT’S DORA BUT WEIRD- HIT HER WITH YOUR BANJO! HIT HER GOOD!” He doesn’t even bother with the other zombies in his path- just takes a hard left off the bridge and barrels straight through the crowd Dora has surrounded herself with, body-checking the ones dumb enough to get in his way. He’s moving too fast for them to grab a hold.

Dora shrieks something about him backing off or else but Larry doesn’t, cause that’s dumb. She’s already actively hurting Shorts Kid; he can feel the magic she’s pumping into them through thrumming banjo feedback as much as he sees the result of it.

The next swing is straight for Dora’s misshapen striped stocking legs.

He’d go for the head or torso, but Snailien is on the former, sneeth (snail teeth) sunk deep in the necromancers green cheek, and Shorts Kid is being held up in front of the latter like some last ditch effort to stop his approach. Also, she’s floating now, green and spectral and not-so-alive looking anymore, actually.

The swing doesn’t hit, not because his aim is off but because something bright and screaming hot like a shooting star scorches right past his side, very, very close to collide with her first.

***

Snailien has never been _so mad_ in her _life_. She arcs high over the river and zombies on Larry’s throw, getting a good eyeful of the distorted, undead, _lich_ Dora Z. Scale wrestling with a struggling Shorts Kid as she hovers off the ground in her protective ring of zombies.

“Snelmet!” Snailien battle-cries. “Parenthesis, snail helmet, close parenthsis!” One snelmet is vanished from her head just in time for landing. The instant she hits Dora she slimes to the nearest bit of exposed skin available, opens her little jaws _very_ wide, and bites with down with a fury into the flesh of Dora’s cheek.

Snailien hears Shorts Kid let out a wordless whooping cheer for her seriously cool entrance. They cheer even louder when they both hear the unmistakable sound of funky banjo murder closing in. “OVER HERE!” Shorts Kid hollers.

With both Dora’s arms full of a writhing Shorts Kid, Snailien is free to really _dig in_. She’s also free to cast a _Protection against Good and Evil_ on Shorts Kid, who has probably been bombarded with attempted necrotic damage ever since Dora took the Engineer out of the picture. Snailien rears up and puts in a whole new hearty chomp on a new spot just for the thought.

This is almost a mistake; there is a sonic scream in the air, a bright flash of light, and the three of them are slammed to the ground. Had Snailien been any slower in her renewed gnawing she’d have been knocked clean off.

Most of the zombies Dora has hidden herself amongst aren’t so lucky- some are knocked off their feet into the Mr. Zippy from the sheer _impact_ made by 60 pounds of soaking-wet dad-rage. Even more are smashed into the buildings that line the riverside street.

The Engineer stands over Dora and Shorts Kid, muddy and furious, flaming pink sword in hand, emoting so molten hot that the air above him _steams_ in the winter air. Snailien is so, so, _so_ glad to see him.

“GET YOUR _POISONOUS CLAWS_ AWAY FROM MY _FAMILY_!”

***

Charlie all but leaps from Gregory’s back, leaving his camera-broom in the dragon’s care and still blinking spots out of his eyes from the Engineers explosive initiative. Hitting the frosty riverbank at a roll, he’s a little late to the party because _not everyone can travel 350-plus feet in_ one turn _, Engineer_ , but wastes no time in retrieving his own flaming sword and gunning for his target.

His target being the little black hell-dog Dora calls a pet.

Charlie’s birds eye view and a _particularly_ snappy perception check let him spot the thing lurking by the riverside almost under the bridge, though it’s starting to make a move for its mistress. Charlie’s not keen to let Dora gain an ally or deal have another case of undead cohorts distract them from hitting the real problem really hard with a lot of weapons. Two raging barbarians can keep Dora from straight up killing and reanimating them all or whatever her goal is for a bit, surely.

Charlie also just really wants to hit the dog. Sue him. The thing’s creepy, and only comes up to his knees. Realkind dogs are basically the worst. Well, Realkind undead dogs even more so, he supposes. He’s only met the one.

Otto proves Charlie’s point by changing course, moving to zip towards him in that ballistic way terriers have and opening his awful little doggy mouth to bark out a _Thunderwave_ at him. All of which is _too bad_ for Otto because that is _Charlie’s_ favorite spell and he’s not in the mood to let anyone _steal his thunder_.

Charlie powers through the blast without losing stride even as he takes the half damage and swings his flaming blade into the dog like a golf club. _Goal_! The strike sends the little shit sailing airborne and right into the middle of the Mr. Zippy river, which is no longer ice-locked thanks to his and Gregory’s own _Thunderwave_ rescue shenanigans. Charlie is very happy with this karmic outcome.

It’s probably not enough to outright kill Otto, to his regret, but it should be plenty enough to delay him being a bother. No time to waste- Charlie hightails it back up the banks to go join in whatever disaster is happening on the street level for his next turn.

***

The good news is nobody except Dora Z. looks dead. The bad news is that things look to have reached a hostage standstill, with Shorts Kid still locked in her clutches and the Engineer, Larry, and Snailien all tensed to strike but holding off based on the obvious threat. The Engineer’s also got a shadowy sword run through him that he’s apparently just ignoring.

Charlie is _pecking done_ with this woman.

“HEY!” he yells with an infusion of _Vicious Mockery_ , skidding to a panting halt between the barbarians and pointing behind him at the river. “Good luck fishing your mutt out of that icy muck, you nasty trash!”

This gets about the reaction Charlie expected, which is a wave of furious green screamed out from Dora’s body in all directions, shattering the cobblestone under her feet and slamming into and through them all. He reflexively hisses and bristles, fur standing on end. Necromancy is _not_ his favorite magic to experience, had enough of that on the Taffy Train, doesn’t like it anymore now. He stumbles with the blow of it, but on seeing Larry outright go to his knees and Snalien get blasted clean off Dora’s face knows he must have gotten off that one lucky.

But it gets the job done, because Shorts Kid takes advantage of Dora’s distraction to kick free of her broken-looking arms and grab immediately at her legs on the drop to the ground. Grubby little fingers latch onto the remaining silver slipper and it comes clean off with the force of their fall. Charlie is _supremely_ glad to see Shorts Kid blink out of the scene right then and there.

Dora’s less effected by this than he’s expecting though.

Dora Z. Scale’s disgust is even more apparent in this half-spectral half-solid form, expression contorting in impossible shapes as she moves to _loom_ over them, limbs starting to twist and grow and whorl. “I am going to destroy _everything_ you have left,” she croons to them, to the _Engineer,_ low and slow, hair billowing out in an invisible wind and blanketing them in a ghastly green shadow. “Your studio, your camera’s, your _crew_ , your life, your _family_ -“

“Oh will you _shut up_!” Charlie and the Engineer both yell in near unison. He leaps up to take a hearty swing with his sword- only for some damn shield to spring up and bounce it off, oh _COME ON_! “Your go, Legs!” he admits, backing up and sending a manic-feeling thumbs up the noodle mans way. “You got this.”

Larry makes a characteristic “ _hmm_ ,” noise, grip shifting on his weapon. He also seems to think he’s got this. “Just accept it,” he growls. “ _We’re_ _playing your Swan Song_!”

It’s in the moment before Larry makes impact that Charlie really, _actually_ clocks for the first time that the banjo is glowing. God it would be so good if that was a radiant glow.

Dora _screams_. Oh it’s totally radiant, that’s fantastic.

She raises both arms for another spell but is halted by purple beams snapping out and shackling themselves to her wrists. “Wha-?”

Charlie looks behind her to see that emergency Toons have begun to arrive on the scene. Right at the forefront is a sight for sore eyes; Charlie feels a very nasty grin spread across his face. Whatever Doc Acne’s got up her sleeve, it’s gonna be the right trick for the situation.

What’s up the good doctors sleeve appears to be her leading a group who are wielding industrial vacuums attached to some sort of containment unit that is currently doubling as a boombox. It’s blasting a very catchy tune about bustin’. More and more magic loops itself around Dora, tethering her to the box and pulling the furious spectre closer and closer in. Charlie feels a vicious satisfaction as the Engineer _forces_ her in.

The box slams shut with a final _snick_.

***

The aftermath is a bit of a gong show. Charlie sets out to track down Snailien, who it turns out got knocked into some bushes lining the street. Her squishy little face is doing this nightmarish thing when he kneels down to pick her up where she’s wiping around her toothy maw with her nubbins but mostly spreading blood around instead of managing to clean it off. Horrifying. Charlie loves it.

They meet back up with the rest of Dodo Studios, who are largely fine, though that one Eric guy looks rough- he’s busy getting plied with health potions and attention. News crews and police are descending on the scene, along with a whole new crowd building on either side of the bridge- alive, this time. Charlie’s checking. Charlie is also using that watch the Engineer apologized to him with to switch from his natural brown tabby coloring to smoky gray. Just in case.

Dora’s little jailbox has been carted away, Gregory de-summoned to wherever he chills when Snailien isn’t calling him, and emergency cleanup Toons are sweeping defeated zombie corpses off-stage to be, uh, reburied maybe? Hell if Charlie knows. Snailien’s back to her favored perch upon Larry’s head, and the Engineer and Shorts Kid are just coming back from finishing up some sort of heart to heart. Shorts Kid still looks _wrecked_ , in more ways than one.

“You alright, Squirt?” They emphatically are not, but Charlie gives them the chance to play it cool, resting a hand on their head.

“M’fine,” they mumble, but lean up into the touch.

He ruffles their hair, channeling a _Cure Wounds_ into the action. Oh _jeez_ , they definitely needed that. Shorts Kid is, like, eight, they don’t have the constitution of a bull, but _still_. Seven hit points? That has to have been _after_ a health potion, there’s no way the Engineer would have let someone get the sword out of him before getting the kid attended to in some fashion. The Engineer may be Their Dad but Charlie himself is also A Dad and boy is he feeling the fury of one right now. He could use another go at Dora honestly, maybe a lot of goes. Liches don’t really die right? Frustrating, but seems like it could also be cathartic.

That’ll have to wait, though. Charlie is exhausted and very ready to go home, hug his own kid, brag to his boyfriend that he’s a badass without context, and collapse face first into their bed.

***

A quick word with Larry see’s him transferring Snailien from his hood to Shorts Kid, who takes them in their hands and just sorta holds her. “I’m sorry I couldn’t do more,” she mumbles, burying her snelmet in Shorts Kids jacket. “I’m just so- she’s all- _argh_ , I still can’t _believe_ her!”

“You were just grand, lass,” The Engineer assures, running one orange claw over her shell. She doesn’t feel all that grand. “We’re all fine, tha’s what matters.” Snalien hears him have a quick hushed word with Charlie and Larry, the former saying his goodbyes and giving them all a slap on the back or pat on the head in farewell, before the Engineer gives her and Shorts Kid another pat of his own. “You lot can sit tight- I’m gonna start wrapping things up, get the authorities outta our hair.” Shorts Kid makes a little noise of protest but lets him go, and Snailien shortly hears him addressing the crowds in his Director Voice.

“Alright, clear off! Shows over, time to scoot!”

“Hey,” Shorts Kid says, lifting their hands and jostling Snailien out of the hole she’s been lowkey trying to burrow into them. “Hey, you never told me you had like a gazillion teeth.”

Snalien blinks cute little snail eyes, tilting her head. “Well I didn’t have a reason to bite anyone before.”

“I didn’t really get to see. Show me!”

Snalien goes for the full show; smiles wide, wider, jaws parting and revealing _rows_ of teeth ridging back into her throat.

Larry _hmms_. “That sure is… something.”

Shorts Kid grins for the first time in a long while. “Bitchin’. Did she taste bad?”

Snalien grins back. “She tasted the _worst_.”

**Author's Note:**

> Me: let’s give Dora a chance to start off well and see how her plan goes from there  
> Dora Z Scale: (makes a marked improvement by actually making it OFF THE BRIDGE but then gets all her joints broken, liches out, her phylactery gets punted into the river, loses 97% of her zombie detail, manages a hostage situation for approximately one minute before getting Ghost Busted)  
> Me: bruh  
> Me: how are you so bad at this


End file.
